Storm Eberhardt – and it was a bit weird, that a storm was called after her uncle – was powerful.

He blew trash through the streets, made trees fall, traffic signs bend.

Trains got delayed and eventually cancelled.

People were gathered in train stations, aimlessly walking around, not getting where they were supposed to.

The shops in the train station were making more money than on carnival, taxi drivers had the Sunday of their lives.

“All train operations cancelled due to storm low Eberhardt” was all information provided.

She was crying in self-pity when she got home completely frozen after four hours of waiting for trains, getting somewhere, but not in time, getting stuck in the crowded main station, buying a jar of almond butter out of pure frustration (talk about emotional eating habits) and eventually giving up and spending a fortune on a taxi drive home.

‘I should never have tried to get anywhere’, she thought. On the other hand, this was a story to tell.

Yes, this is a very egoistic post of me processing frustration through my writing, art or whatever you wanna call this thing I’m doing. What I’m taking though from this experience is the soothing feeling of COMPASSION with myself – something we should maybe all practice a bit more often.